


melted sugar, you’re like the sweetest love (keep an eye on the oven, dear)

by LilithStarlight



Series: chan's foolproof step-by-step guide to self care and coping [5]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Baking, Cute, Kissing, M/M, MinChan rise bitch, Smooching, Soft Bang Chan, Soft Lee Minho | Lee Know, Soft kissing, That's it that's the plot, also i'm gonna say it:, and there's mild spoilers for the middle of spider-man homecoming, anyway this is literally just minchan baking and kissing and being cute together, anywho on with the show!, but gently, in case anyone doesn't want to read that, oh and they smooch a lot too :3, onto the actual tags, rated t for minho AND chan's potty mouths, self doubt but for literally .5 seconds, so this happened after i asked for a prompt and the lovely Honey provided, there's zero spice btw it might seem like it for a Hot Second but it's soft, they're in love your honor!, they're literally so soft for each other idk what to tell you dude, this has lots of mild descriptions of food and mentions of eating, umm not gonna cw bc i Learned Things but as one might imagine, without further ado i present: minchan baking cookies!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:34:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28537437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilithStarlight/pseuds/LilithStarlight
Summary: The one where Channie decides to make cookies with his boyfriend. Although, neither of them are really that good at baking… Oh well, they’ll figure it out.Probably.See also; Chan and Minho discover that if two people are bad at baking, it cancels out and they collectively make one (1) decent baker. Or something like that.Oh, and they kiss a lot, just because they can. Don’t worry about it.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Series: chan's foolproof step-by-step guide to self care and coping [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1788208
Comments: 18
Kudos: 95





	melted sugar, you’re like the sweetest love (keep an eye on the oven, dear)

**Author's Note:**

> thank you jeonghoneys for the prompt!! you're a sweet bean and ily <333
> 
> The title is from GFRIEND: Crème Brûlée! A bop and a half!

Chan wakes up today, after having spent the previous day either sleeping or eating or falling asleep while eating, raring and ready to go. Schedules are, thankfully, less brutal now after all the winter festival performances are done, and he plans to take full advantage of this.

He starts by running through the hallway early in the morning (read: nearly one in the afternoon, but to be fair he just woke like ten minutes ago) and sliding on his socks into Minho’s room to jump on him. Gently, of course, but it rouses Minho from dreamland.

He cracks open one eye to glare at Chan, realizes who woke him up, and groans loudly and exaggeratedly.

“Whaaaat do you waaaant?” he whines, though there’s no real heat to his grumbling.

Chan grins instead of answering at first, leaning down to attack Minho’s cheeks with kisses.

“C’mon, babe, it’s too early for this,” Minho complains, which Chan doesn’t believe at all – even as Minho says it he’s sitting up to tug Chan closer and even return his own smooches.

“C’mon yourself, handsome,” Chan says cheekily in response. “It’s past 12:45, it’s time to get up.” He’s still grinning, and Minho rolls his eyes at him.

“How are you so energetic? You’re like a big puppy, you’re even wiggling around, damnit!” Minho exclaims, rubbing sleep out of his eyes with one hand and gesturing exasperatedly at Chan with the other.

Chan only wiggles harder. He’s excited, he can’t help it!

“Because I have plans today!” he declares.

“And why, exactly, are they not “sleep in for another hour and leave my lovely boyfriend to get some more rest”?” Minho asks, raising an eyebrow.

Chan pouts.

“We slept all day yesterday, and I want to hang out with you while we have some free time,” he says, hoping his puppy eyes are working on Minho.

They must be, because after a few more moments of Minho scrutinizing his face with an unamused glare he caves.

“You’re lucky I love you, bitch,” Minho grumbles with a sigh, then sits up straighter to stretch. “What are the plans, then?” he asks.

Chan beams, clapping excitedly.

(Minho’s heart might melt a little at how cute his tiny claps are, but he’s not going to admit it out loud. Right now, at least.)

“Yay!” Chan exclaims. “Okay, so! I was thinking, since everyone’s out of the dorms until tonight, we’ll have the kitchen to ourselves. After breakfast, do you want to try baking cookies with me?”

Minho somehow manages to furrow his brows and raise them at the same time. It’s kind of impressive.

“Love, we both suck at baking,” Minho says patiently.

“I know, I know,” Chan says. “But, hear me out; we haven’t really tried baking together before. Maybe since we’re both bad at it, the badness will cancel itself out?” He spreads his hands then clasps them, knowing he sounds ridiculous but hoping Minho will just roll with it.

For a long time, Minho just stares at him.

“Babe, you’re so weird,” he says finally. Then he sighs. “I’m willing to give it a try, though. Worst case scenario, we know where the fire extinguisher is.”

Chan’s cheeks start to hurt with how hard he’s smiling right now.

“Yes!” he yells, excited. Then, a little quieter. “Thank you, Minnie. I’m happy you want to bake with me.”

He hesitates for a second, a ghost of a frown taking over his face.

“You do want to, right? I didn’t just bother you into doing it?”

It’s his old arch-nemesis, self-doubt, back again to cause problems. Luckily, Minho is well versed in helping him deal with it.

Minho sighs again, fondly this time. He cups Chan’s cheeks gently, looking into his eyes, and Chan finds nothing but warmth there.

“Promise, Channie. If I didn’t want to do this, I would have told you the second I woke up. And then I would have gone back to sleep. I want to hang out with you and I want to bake with you,” Minho tells him, running a hand through his hair. Chan meets his gaze, and he knows he’s staring lovingly at him. That fact, and Minho’s kind words, have him smiling again, just as wide as before.

“Okay. Thanks, Minnie,” he says softly.

“Of course,” Minho replies easily. He rubs his nose against Chan’s, making Chan giggle.

Then, because he’s Minho, he quickly and quietly moves his hands to Chan’s waist and digs his fingers into his sides to tickle him.

Chan shrieks with laughter and falls over on his side.

“Stooop,” he whines, still laughing as he bats at Minho’s hands weakly. Minho grins as he lets go. Chan eventually sighs as he calms down to quiet giggles.

“Alright, Channie,” Minho says, extending his hand. “Ready for some baking?”

Chan chuckles one last time, before reaching for Minho’s hand and pulling himself up.

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

A little over an hour, three and half bowls of cereal, and a foamy soap fight in the bathroom as they wash up later finds them ready to rock and roll on the cookie baking front.

Or at least, Minho’s ready to rock and roll. Chan won’t stop back-hugging him, claiming Minho is “way too comfy to let go of yet”. He only relents with a grumble when Minho reminds him that he can’t have any cookies if he doesn’t make them, and he can’t make them until he gets off.

 _Now_ Chan is ready to rock and roll.

And by rock and roll, he definitely means staring at Minho and Minho staring right back until they remember simultaneously that they should probably find a recipe to follow. And get the ingredients out. And pre-heat the oven. Probably in that order.

This might take a while.

They find a recipe online that has a lot of positive reviews, luckily, and search the kitchen for everything they need.

“Flour, eggs, sugar, brown sugar, butter…” Chan mumbles to himself while he opens cabinets. He turns around to find that Minho’s already found almost everything, somehow locating the baking soda, vanilla, and chocolate chips too. “Oh. Nice.”

“Still need eggs and butter, can you check the fridge?” Minho asks as he sets all the ingredients he has on the table. Chan blinks and goes to check the fridge. Then the other one. Then the third one. Ah, there they are. He pulls them out and sets them on the table as well.

Then they pull on disposable gloves, find the containers and utensils they need, and get to work.

“It says to mix the butter first… a cup, whatever that is. I assume this is it,” Minho comments as he unwraps two little sticks of butter and throws them into a wide bowl. Then he leans closer to the recipe on his phone, looking ahead at the next few steps.

“What the fuck is a teaspoon?” he demands at the screen. The phone doesn’t respond.

Chan raises his eyebrows, coming to peek at the recipe as well.

“It’s a way to measure things in small amounts,” he says. “What needs it?”

“Half of the recipe, apparently,” Minho huffs. “And more cups, what kind of cup do they mean? Why can’t they just use grams and milligrams like everyone else?”

“Wish I knew, babe.”

“Hmm… fair. I’m just gonna convert it, I’m tired of this already,” Minho says with a sigh.

“Go for it,” Chan says as he starts to mix the butter with a whisk he found hiding amongst the pots and pans. It takes a while, and Chan sighs wistfully as he remembers their broken electric beater. It’s sorely missed.

By the time he’s done, arms sore, he turns to see that Minho has already converted and measured the rest of the ingredients and put them in different containers.

Chan sighs, relieved that he doesn’t have to measure anything and simultaneously feeling slight dread at how much there is left to mix. His arm twitches just looking at the pile of flour.

Minho seems to sense this and holds his hand out for the bowl, which Chan hands over gratefully. Minho starts to whisk in a few other ingredients while Chan rolls his shoulders to stretch his arms and give them a break.

After a few moments of watching Minho mix, Chan decides to reread the recipe and start combining some of the ingredients, attacking the mixture with a fork this time.

When it’s time for the eggs he decides to pop the yolks before beating them together, earning a strange look from Minho. Chan sighs.

“It makes it easier to mix,” Chan insists. Minho holds up his hands defensively before going back to whisking.

“I didn’t say anything,” he says, but his mouth twitches up into a smirk.

“You don’t have to, your face says it all,” Chan mutters. Minho snickers at that.

The mixing goes by in silence for a while, only broken by giggles when they make sly eye contact every once and a while and the soft sound of the forks and whisks hitting the sides of the bowl. When it’s time to mix the flour in, they switch to a flat spatula and a big spoon and trade off every few minutes.

They pause to take a break before adding the chocolate chips – their arms are _tired_ , and they slump in their chairs to let themselves rest.

“That settles it,” Chan says quietly. “I’m investing in a new electric beater. I don’t want to mix anything by hand for another year.”

“You have to mix in the chocolate chips in, like, three minutes,” Minho reminds him.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Chan whispers emphatically. “Fine, I’ll mix in the chocolate chips. _Then_ I’m not mixing anything by hand for a year, don’t test me.”

Minho bursts out laughing, loud and carefree. Chan honestly didn’t think what he said was that funny, but Minho’s cackling makes him laugh along with him.

After a moment, they both sigh at the same time, making them giggle again before they both sit up.

“Almost done,” Minho mumbles, shooting Chan a soft smile before reaching for the bowl and the chocolate chips. Chan almost tears up right then as Minho dumps the whole bag in and starts stirring, relieved that his already tired muscles will be spared from the pain of mixing.

“If we weren’t already dating, I would declare my love for you and ask you to be my boyfriend right now,” he says dreamily, placing a hand over his heart and gazing lovingly at Minho. Minho snorts.

“I should do simple tasks for you more often if you’re going to declare your love for me every time.” Chan would jokingly push at Minho’s shoulder if he wasn’t performing a vital task. (What can he say? He really wants cookies.)

Instead, he sticks his tongue out and gets up to grab the baking sheets and a couple of spoons.

Minho exhales loudly when he’s finished mixing, slumping in his chair again and dramatically pretending to wipe off his forehead. Chan chuckles at him, then gestures at the baking trays.

“Ready to spoon?” Chan asks. He realizes how that sounds as soon as Minho smirks at him.

“I mean we can, but I figured you might want to finish making the cookies first,” he says, barely holding back a snicker.

“You know what I meant,” Chan huffs, ears turning red.

“Hm, do I, Channie?” Minho says, mirth showing in his eyes and his smile. “Cuz it sounded like you wanted me to drop everything and cuddle you.”

“Usually, yes!” Chan exclaims, then snaps his mouth shut as his cheeks start to flush. “I mean… you… and we… UGH,” he sputters. He crosses his arms, looking away from Minho’s brilliant grin that had appeared at his confession.

“Aw, I think it’s sweet that you always want to cuddle with me,” Minho says, and Chan just _knows_ he’s batting his eyelashes sarcastically. Chan _humphs_ , and before he can turn around again Minho is latching onto him from behind.

“Chaaaanniieee,” he draws out, making Chan roll his eyes playfully before breaking into a smile. He whips around to grab Minho and tug him into his lap.

Minho shrieks with laughter as he does, mirth doubling when Chan kisses all over his face for the second time that day.

Minho gets his revenge by ripping his gloves off and tossing them behind him before holding Chan back, hands on both sides of his head so he can return the smooches, purposefully making them wet and spitty and aiming for every part of Chan’s face.

“Eww, Minnie!” Chan exclaims, giggling hard. “You’re so gross!”

“You’re gross!” Minho parrots, cackling when Chan scrunches his nose.

“Fine,” he finally grumbles (fondly). “We’re both gross.” He smiles, then.

“Shall we be gross together?” he asks, nuzzling Minho’s nose with his own.

“Of course, my darling, I expect nothing less after all,” Minho says with an overdone, fanciful tone. Chan snorts and squeezes Minho closer, arms around his waist. Then he tugs his gloves off as well and places them carefully on the table before he brings his hands up to cup his face.

“Dork,” he whispers happily.

“Nerd,” Minho murmurs back through a smile. Then he’s leaning in to press a soft kiss on Chan’s lips.

It’s sweet, Chan thinks, literally and emotionally. He tastes like some fruity lip balm he probably put on earlier, and it feels like familiarity, like the years of knowing and loving each other. The kiss continues, going from one to two to three to so many Chan loses count.

Minho’s lips are soft, and Chan briefly hopes his are too before concluding that he doesn’t really care. He ends up threading his fingers through Minho’s hair just as Minho shifts his hands to rest on the nape of his neck, and it’s so comfortable, so warm, so _them_.

Minho eventually gives him one long, content kiss before pulling back, then immediately leaning in again to rest his forehead on Chan’s. He’s smiling serenely, eyes closed, and Chan thinks his heart might burst from how in love he is. He closes his eyes too, just breathing in Minho’s scent and loving his warmth and his comforting presence.

After a long while, Minho mutters, breath fanning across Chan’s nose, “We should probably finish those cookies or we won’t be able to eat them.”

Chan sighs before agreeing, nodding slightly before they separate and Minho stands up again. Then Chan’s putting his gloves back on while Minho has to get a new pair (his backwards aim isn’t very good and the gloves had landed on the floor).

The moment is technically over, but the feeling certainly isn’t; it’s evident by the way they immediately grasp each other’s hands as soon as the gloves are on, not caring that it makes scooping the cookies into even shapes approximately eight times harder. They just work together, giggling every time some dough lands back into the bowl or falls to pieces on the tray away from the rest of the soon-to-be cookies.

Finally, they have a full sheet of cookies ready to be placed in the oven.

The oven that they never turned on.

Oops.

Minho bursts out laughing again, nearly falling to the ground with the force of it while Chan hangs his head in disbelief. He sighs, loud and long-suffering, before reaching to set the oven to the correct temperature.

“We’re fools,” Chan admits with another sigh. He looks at Minho, who immediately pretends to stop laughing – he’s very obviously holding it back by pursing his lips very tightly.

“Absolute buffoons,” Minho agrees, and then he can’t hold it anymore and breaks into peals of very loud laughter again. It makes Chan smile, even as he shakes his head at their lack of foresight.

Then Chan has a thought.

“Y’know, since we have some more time before we need to do anything,” he starts slowly, still shy talking about the little intimate moments even though they just had one minutes ago. “We could maybe. Y’know. Continue what we started earlier?” he suggests.

Within a second Minho has grabbed his wrist and flipped him around, then he’s guiding him backwards until his back bumps against the fridge. Chan shivers, both from the cool of the metal and from the intensity of Minho’s gaze, sweeping his eyes up and down his frame.

And just like that, the intensity is gone, leaving only fondness and warmth once again. Chan melts. Minho smiles softly at him, taking both of his hands in his own, removing their gloves once again. As soon as the gloves are gone he laces their fingers together, at first just locking them together like puzzle pieces meant for each other. Then, he extends and slides his fingers so that Chan’s hand straightens out.

Confused, Chan tilts his head slightly. Minho doesn’t answer, not verbally at least. Instead, he brings their hands up, fingers still woven together, gently tugging Chan closer to him in the process. Then, their hands are close, hovering right in front of Minho’s lips.

Which seems to have been Minho’s plan all along, as he takes the opportunity to press a feather-light kiss to every one of Chan’s fingertips, twice; forward and backward, the same amount of pressure each time. It makes Chan blush, cheeks tinting pink with that ever-present shyness combined with genuine joy and happiness.

Then Minho’s kissing his knuckles and the backs of his hands, then he’s moving in closer and kissing his cheeks, then placing kisses on his forehead, his nose, his eyelids, just underneath his ears.

He leans back, leaving Chan completely flustered by this point from all the attention and affection. He loves it, of course, but he’s pretty certain at this point that Minho will always be able to turn him into a red, blushy mess for as long as they’re together.

Distantly, he really, _really_ hopes that it’s for a long time.

“Can I kiss you, baby?” Minho asks, snapping Chan out of his mild daze. He processes the question, then, and immediately pouts.

“Please do,” he says softly. He realizes his hands are still locked together with Minho’s fingers, and he quickly pulls them apart to wrap his arms around Minho’s waist again.

Minho decides to cup Chan’s face again, palms resting on his cheeks and fingers ever so gently tracing over his ears before coming to a stop near his neck. It tickles, making Chan shiver again, but this time he’s beaming.

(And he’s pretty sure his eyes must have become heart shaped, but who can blame him? He gets to look at, talk to, hug, kiss, and love Lee Minho every day!)

Minho returns his smile before leaning in again.

The kiss is just as soft and sweet this time, maybe a little more hurried than before but still as comfortable as usual. Chan smiles into it, and he feels as Minho does too.

It’s always reassuring, Chan thinks, that Minho seems to love this kind of affection as much as he does. It makes him grin even more, then he’s giggling. He brings his hands up to rest on Minho’s back, splayed flat and trying to pull him impossibly closer.

He considers, briefly, how long the kiss might carry on for (‘forever’ would be an acceptable answer, Chan decides) when a loud _BEEP_ startles him so much he jolts back and smacks his head on the fridge door.

“Ouch,” he mumbles, though he’s paying less attention to the pain and wondering where the beeping came from before he remembers the oven is both an appliance that exists and an appliance that is on. And loud. And hot enough to bake with.

“You okay, babe?” Minho asks, breathless from the kiss and worry for Chan’s noggin.

“Yeah,” Chan says with a quiet hiss. It honestly doesn’t hurt that bad, just stings. He rubs the back of his head absently. When he sees Minho’s concerned gaze on him, he elaborates. “It’s okay, really. Barely hurts, it’ll go away in a bit.”

“Good,” Minho says with a hum. Then he snickers, and Chan sighs.

“Something funny?” he asks lightly. He knows what’s coming.

“You’re not actually injured, so I can laugh at how you hit your head now.” Chan shakes his head, sighing again.

“It was pretty funny, you have to admit,” Minho says with another laugh. “Though, head injuries are decidedly not good, so we’ll make out somewhere else next time.” He snorts at Chan’s wide-eyed, distressed expression.

“Must you call it that?” Chan whines, hugging Minho closer and letting his head drop to rest on his shoulder. Minho returns his embrace, still chuckling, and rubs his hands up and down Chan’s back.

“Yes,” he answers. “I must. It’s in our boyfriend contract.”

“We don’t have one of those, Minnie.”

Minho fakes a scandalized gasp, and Chan lifts his head to see Minho with a hand over his heart.

“How dare you!” he exclaims, and Chan has to bite his lip to keep himself from laughing just yet. “I distinctly remember in article 3, section 4a, it says right there, in bold letters, “Minho gets to tease Chan whenever he wants to”. It’s a mandatory, non-negotiable rule! Jeez, it’s like you don’t even _want_ to follow our contract!” Minho accompanies his mini-rant with wild one-handed gestures, and the appalled look on his face accompanied by the back of his hand on his forehead as he finishes is too much.

Chan breaks down laughing, shoulders shaking and clinging to Minho even tighter. He giggles into Minho’s neck, and the sound of Minho’s laughter soon joins his own.

It takes several long moments for them to calm down, both holding each other up and both not wanting to let go. They break apart eventually when they remember the reason the teasing started in the first place.

They’re quick to pull on new gloves – once again, seeing as Minho had unceremoniously dropped the last ones on the ground, but Chan can’t even pretend to be annoyed about it – and put the first tray in the oven. After a moment of consideration, they decide to set up the next tray. Then when they realize they only have two trays, they take the rest of the mixture and shape the dough balls they’ll need soon before placing them back in the bowl.

The first batch goes by surprisingly quickly, and to both of their immense surprise none of the cookies are burned.

“I want to say something, but I don’t want to jinx us yet,” Chan mumbles as Minho pulls the sheet out of the oven. Minho raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything until he puts the tray down on a hot pad.

“I might have an idea of what you want to say. If I’m right, _definitely_ don’t say it just yet.” Chan chuckles.

“Alright, I won’t,” he concedes.

The next batch goes slower, not helped by the fact that they have to wait to put the baked cookies on a cooling rack they had found on top of the biggest fridge before they can place more unbaked dough on the sheet.

It’s rinse and repeat for approximately three more batches, telling jokes and talking about whatever comes to mind and laughing as they work. Chan tries to lick the spoon once, only for Minho to grab it out of his hand, yelling something about diseases and catching salmonella. And then he licks the spoon himself with a satisfied smirk, only giving in and feeding Chan a little spoonful when he pouts at him with big, pleading eyes

Then there’s one sad batch left that has four lumpy dough balls that needed extra chocolate chips removed from some of the other cookies and pushed into them. They both snort at how forlorn the dough looks. Then soon these cookies, too, meet their delicious, toasty fate in the oven.

Minho realizes before Chan that they have nothing left to do, so he decides to plop himself in Chan’s lap once again. They both giggle at their sudden proximity.

“Hey, Channie,” Minho says slyly.

“Hey, Minnie,” Chan replies easily. Minho doesn’t even have to ask this time, Chan’s gaze and purposeful nod answering his unspoken question, before he circles his arms around Chan’s shoulders and swoops in to kiss him once again.

Chan’s _never_ going to get tired of this. He’s sure of it.

From the gentle tugs on the baby hairs at the back of his neck to the curve of Minho’s lips when he smiles as they pause for a breath to the nearly overwhelming, loving softness Minho treats him with whenever they kiss; without fail, Minho’s kisses make Chan’s heart beat faster and his cheeks flush and before he knows it he’s smiling too, warmth and affection and love bubbling up in him.

Perhaps everything about Minho makes him feel that loved, that warm, that _comforted_. More than once he’s wondered how he got so lucky to love Minho and to be loved in return, and every time, unknowingly, Minho will assure him that they’re both the lucky ones – lucky that everything has worked out so far, that they both feel the same, that they managed to end up in the same group in the first place.

Lucky, Chan thinks, to have each other.

(Actually, he doesn’t normally think very deeply on the matter when they kiss. In fact, usually his mind goes blissfully blank expect for the feeling of Minho – his lips, his hands, his entire presence. It’s later, when they’re snuggling together, that Chan will wonder and ponder until Minho will suddenly hold him closer, clinging to him tighter without prompting. And Chan will smile and hug him closer in return, thoughts calming and heartbeat settling, steadying.)

Right now, as they continue to kiss and embrace and soak up each other’s warmth, he feels nothing but happiness and Minho’s closeness and his love.

Eventually, Chan leans back to admire Minho, holding his face gently between his palms. He resists the urge to squish his cheeks and instead gazes at him, eyes wandering over his expression, drinking in every detail like he’s committing each one to memory; like it’s the first time he’s ever seen someone so incredible.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, not even ashamed of how reverent he sounds. It makes Minho blush, finally, cheeks turning a delicate, rosy pink as he smiles shyly down at Chan.

“My beautiful baby,” he murmurs just as quiet, brushing a stray lock of hair out of Minho’s eyes. “I love you, Minnie. So much.”

Chan isn’t sure where his sudden burst of emotions comes from, but he doesn’t bother trying to hold it back. He simply declares his love for Minho, over and over and over, pressing kisses to his face with every declaration until Minho ducks his head to escape the never-ending affection.

It’s quiet, a comfortable quiet, then Minho’s lifting his head again, knees gently squeezing Chan’s waist and fingers delicately twirling Chan’s unruly locks as he looks down at him again – so, so fondly that Chan’s heart melts even more.

“I love you too, Channie. So very much,” he says softly. Chan beams at him, caressing his cheeks softly, and Minho makes a point to grab one of his hands and press a kiss to the palm. It makes Chan’s heart flutter, and he kisses Minho on the nose softly before pressing another kiss to his lips.

They’re so lost in each other’s warmth and love that they’re completely unaware of the beeping of a very noisy (and nosy) kitchen appliance. They don’t notice the second beep either.

The third shrill noise pierces through, however, snapping them out of their trance to blink at each other, confused, before their eyes widen in unison.

“Cookies!” they both yelp, scrambling to get up and rescue their cookies from the relentless heat of the oven.

The oven gives off a fourth, offensively loud shriek before Minho shuts the timer off mid warning and Chan yanks the oven door open with mitts on and pulls the baking tray out.

They both sigh in relief when the cookies don’t look any more done than the others. The extra thirty seconds, apparently, hadn’t adversely affected them whatsoever, and when Minho and Chan make eye contact after Chan sets the tray down they burst into peals of laughter once again.

Several minutes later, every cookie has found a place stacked on the big cooling rack.

They both sigh again, sharing a smile before they start cleaning up.

Several minutes pass in comfortable silence save for the sounds of dishes clinking and intermittent splashes of running water.

Then suddenly, the kitchen is clean, everything is done, and the only thing left to do is to devour some cookies.

Which they do, almost immediately.

They both grab a few small stacks and slap them onto a plate to share, fill a mug with milk for Chan (and Minho to steal sips from), and have a mind meld moment where they silently and decisively agree to head into the common room to watch a movie together.

Chan carries the goods with them, meaning Minho beats him to the couch and plops down in his cushion as Chan trails a few feet behind. He pats his thighs a few times, indicating (read: gently demanding) that Chan sit in his lap. Now preferably. Chan blushes slightly, of course, but readily agrees and sets the plate and mug on a side table before settling directly into Minho’s lap.

Happily, Minho immediately circles his arms around Chan’s waist, holding him in place as he leans back against Minho’s chest.

They decide to watch Spider-man, something they’ve both seen several times and don’t mind having as background noise. Then they both grab a cookie and start to munch as the opening scene starts to play.

Soon, Chan shifts in Minho’s lap, and his head comes to rest tucked just below Minho’s chin. It’s very ideal for Minho to press more kisses to the top of his head whenever he feels like it, which, as it turns out, is incredibly frequently.

They’re around halfway through the movie, the cookies all eaten and only milky crumbs remain in the mug, Peter Parker saves his friends in the Washington Monument, and Minho suddenly taps Chan’s shoulder to get his attention.

“When you said you said you didn’t want to jinx us earlier, what were you going to say?” Minho whispers. Chan blinks up at him before his expression clears. He grins.

“I was just gonna say that I was right, and that two people being bad at baking absolutely cancels out to make us good at it.”

Minho can only stare at him for nearly a full minute.

“You know that we probably only succeeded because we took everything at a snail’s pace and had two people to watch the oven, right?” he asks.

“Semantics,” Chan says with a wave of his hand. “Either way, we made some delicious cookies and my theory was 100% correct and we should probably warn Felix right now that we’re coming for his title of star baker.”

Minho blinks at him, several times, before he shakes his head. He chuckles, faux-exasperated and amused and fond all at once.

“Babe, you’re _so_ weird.”

Chan chuckles. He turns slightly, shifting to reach up and kiss Minho some more. He tastes sweet again, like chocolate and sugar and affection.

“I know,” he says softly. Then he smirks. “I learned it from you.”

“Nerd,” Minho says with a sigh and a barely suppressed giggle.

“Dork.”

“Are we going to eat all the cookies or save some for the kids?” Minho asks as the credits roll.

Chan stretches, still in Minho’s lap, before turning and snuggling into him. Then he processes and considers the question.

“It would be kind of mean if we didn’t give them any, right?”

“Yeah, probably,” Minho says with a sigh.

“However,” Chan adds. “We could always set aside two for each of them and then eat the rest?”

Minho grasps both of Chan’s hands in excitement.

“You’re a fucking genius,” he declares, and before Chan knows it Minho is adjusting him in his lap before standing up with him still in his hold, bridal style. He’s mostly used to it at this point, but he still loves that Minho will make a point to twirl him around whenever he carries him, and today is no different.

Before long, he’s set down again in the kitchen, and Minho dashes around to stuff cookies into bags for everyone before writing their names on it.

It’s something so simple, maybe even silly, but Chan can only gaze at Minho lovingly, like he’s been doing all day.

“Hey, Minnie,” he calls after a moment. Minho pauses all of his actions to glance at Chan, curious. Chan grins.

“Love you, baby,” he says, blowing him a kiss.

Minho rolls his eyes fondly before pretending to catch the kiss and rub it into his cheek, then blowing a kiss of his own.

Chan snatches it out of the air and does the same. His cheeks hurt again from how much he’s smiled today, but he doesn’t really care.

If he gets to spend his days with Minho like this, baking and cuddling and sneakily eating honestly far too many cookies than any person should consume in one sitting, then he’ll live with a heart that beats a little too fast and cheeks that ache from smiling for hours.

And he’ll do it again and again, for as long as they have each other.

**Author's Note:**

> hummmm minchan loving agenda! who wants to join!!! there's plenty of room!!!!!
> 
> (also please ignore inconsistencies in how long the members get time off/how they get home from the studios idk shit about shit but i do know that i love skz)
> 
> anyway stay safe! stay hydrated! stay educated! stay strong! ily!!


End file.
